


New Jersey

by so_shhy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9442439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_shhy/pseuds/so_shhy
Summary: After an unexpected growth spurt, Yurio has a creative solution for his career going forward. Victor does not approve.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Now with an awesome podfic by Hananobira!

Yuri Plisetsky came from a smaller-than-average family, and at fifteen he looked likely to end up a small, slender man.

By seventeen, he was over six foot.

It wasn’t the height that was the problem, really. It was the breadth. It’s possible to be a tall figure skater. What’s more difficult is being a singles skater with shoulders like an ox and arms like a gorilla.

***

Yuuri had always had his own weight problems, but he could slim down again if he really tried. There was nothing Yurio could do about his weight. His diet should have stopped him putting on quite so much muscle, but his willpower seemed to have deserted him. Yuuri strongly suspected that his nutritionist-approved meals were being supplemented by a half-dozen pirozhki or three slices of meat feast pizza pretty much every day.

“I’m _hungry,_ okay?” Yurio snapped, when Yuuri caught him surreptitiously shoving shawarma into his mouth.

“It’s none of my business.”

“That’s crap. You’ll tell Victor, and he’ll tell Yakov.”

“I won’t,” Yuuri promised, and he didn’t. He was pretty sure they already knew.

***

Yuuri was also present, though unnoticed, for the serious conversation about Yurio’s future.

“Ice dance?” Yurio yelled, towering furiously over Yakov. His yells were a lot more effective now, with his booming voice and his hulking figure. “Fuck of, old man, I’m not skating ice dance with some dumb girl.”

“If you keep on doing jumps at your weight you’ll ruin your knees by the time you’re eighteen.

“It’s not even a real sport.”

“It is a real sport,” put in Victor, pouting a little. “Don’t you want an Olympic medal, Yura?”

“I am NOT. SKATING. ICE DANCE!”

***

A few weeks later, Yuuri and Victor arrived at the rink while the hockey players were finishing up their practice with a scrimmage. It wasn’t until the coach called for a line change that Yuuri realised one of the helmeted figures going over the boards wasn’t a hockey player at all.

Once he was playing, it was obvious Yurio didn’t know what he was doing. He barely knew how to hold a stick, and he was never in place for a pass. It didn’t seem to matter, when he was the fastest thing on the ice and could knock the other players over like ninepins.

“No,” Victor said, in a whine much like the ones Makkachin gave when Yuuri put away some leftovers he had his eye on.

Yuuri gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze. “I think Yurio just found a new career.”

***

“We’ll train him up, see how he does,” the ice hockey coach said. “Before this, I’d have said it’s impossible to start so late, but the kid can skate like nothing I’ve ever seen. I think he’s got potential. Could be a good team player.”

“Ah…” said Yuuri.

Later, Victor kissed him, smiling with relief. “Yura, a team player? I give him a week.”

***

Apparently, in hockey, being a team player meant a willingness to throw down your gloves and punch anyone on the opposing team who tried to hurt one of your compatriots. Yurio was an excellent team player.

***

“He doesn’t have the skills,” said Victor, who seemed to have decided to live in a combination of optimism and denial.

Yuuri kept his mouth shut. It wouldn’t have helped to mention that Yurio possessed levels of determination verging on insanity, and was used to training ten hours a day, six days a week.

***

“Good hockey sense,” said the coach. “He sees the ice well.”

“ _Hockey sense? Sees the ice?_ ” Victor spat, once Yuuri had dragged his fuming husband away from the rink. “Yuuri, what does that even mean?”

“I have no idea,” Yuuri admitted. “It sounds fake, but… Vitya, sit down and have some tea.”

“I don’t want tea! I want Yura to come to his senses and skate ice dance!”

Yuuri pitied any poor girl teamed with Yurio. Privately, he thought this hockey thing was a much better idea.

***

Despite his general attitude, at Yurio’s first MHL game Victor cheered as loud as anyone when Yurio picked up an assist (twice) and booed as loud as anyone when he got sent to the penalty box (three times). He also brought a sign that said, “GOOD LUCK YURA!! YOU SHOULD BE SKATING ICE DANCE!!!” The sign was covered in hearts and unnecessary amounts of glitter.

“You two are so embarrassing! Never come to one of my games again!” Yurio bawled at them from the bench.

“Ice dance!” Victor sang out. He flowed to his feet, did a graceful pirouette, and landed in jazz hands position.

“AAAAARGH! Fuck off and die!”

***

The figure skating World Championships were in Moscow that year.

“I’ll be flying in early to prepare,” Chris told them over Skype. “I might as well drop by and visit you two.”

Victor beamed at Chris, then at Yuuri. “How cute, Yuuri! He misses me.”

“Chris, are you sure?” Yuuri asked. “We’d love to see you,” he added hastily, “but St Petersburg is a little out of your way.” Seven hundred kilometres out, to be precise.

“Well, to be perfectly honest," said Chris, with an expression that managed to be 90% innocence and 10% sadism, “I thought I might catch a hockey game while I was in town. I am a fan, you know.”

“You’ve never watched a game in your life.”

“Victor, that is quite untrue. I’ve dated _several_ hockey players.”

Victor flopped onto his back and put his hand over his eyes, moaning pathetically. “Everyone is betraying me,” he announced.

***

It wasn’t just Chris. The group that converged before the game included Otabek Altin, JJ Leroy, his wife Isabella (with a baby strapped to her chest), the Crispino siblings, and, to Yuuri’s delight, Phichit. Along with Victor, Yuuri, Yakov, Mila and Nikolai, they formed quite a crowd in the stands.

Yurio did a double-take as he skated out for warm-ups. He looked astonished, but instead of the outraged glare Yuuri expected, he raised his stick in salute. He wasn’t looking at Yuuri or Victor. Yuuri glanced along the row of seats. At the far end, Otabek Altin was giving Yurio a thumbs up.

***

“FUCK YEAH! Sweet feed! … Look at that pass! Did you see that pass? Right on his tape! … Shoot the puck! Shoot the puck! … That was a penalty, are you blind? … Gloves off! Yeah, get in there you fuckers!”

Phichit nudged Yuuri in the side. His eyes were wide. “What is he _doing_?”

Yuuri took another cautious glance at the wildly gesticulating JJ. “I think maybe it’s a Canadian thing?”

“I don’t understand hockey,” said Phichit, as Yurio smashed another player into the boards and then elbowed him in the helmet on the way past. “Is he allowed to do that? Surely he’s not allowed to do that.”

“Yes! Kill him!” howled JJ.

Phichit shook his head wonderingly. “I don’t understand Canadians either.”

***

“So, what did you think?” Yurio said.

He stank of sweat, one eye was rapidly swelling, and there was blood on his jersey – maybe his own, maybe not.

“You were great!” JJ enthused. “You gotta go in for the NHL draft this summer. Come to North America! That’s real hockey.”

Yurio gave him a disgusted look. “Ugh. Not you. I don’t care what you think.” He turned expectantly to the others.

Chris smirked. “It was very manly.”

“Yeah,” said Sara Crispino. “I think I need to meet some hockey players.”

“Sara!”

“It… um, it suits you,” said Phichit diplomatically.

Yurio turned to Otabek.

“What did _you_ think?”

“I…” Otabek met Yurio’s eyes with a look that could only be described a _smouldering._ “...think that Yuri Plisetsky has the eyes of a soldier, the heart of a tiger and the body of a warrior.”

The tiger instantly became a fluffy kitten. Yurio was bright pink. “Otabek… do you wanna come have tea with me?”

The two of them departed, arm in arm.

Victor stared after them. “It’s over,” he said. “We’ve lost him.”

“You don’t know that,” Yuuri said, not very hopefully. “He wouldn’t make his final decision based on… _that_.”

“Just like Vitya wouldn’t make a decision to run off and be a coach in Japan because some drunken stranger humped his leg,” Yakov growled sarcastically. “I don’t know what I did to deserve either of them.”

***

 

**_2022: Beijing, China._ **

_…Yuri Plisetsky, of Moscow,_ boomed the announcer, as a gold medal for the final event of the Winter Olympic Games was lowered over Yurio’s head.

Yuuri had already cheered himself hoarse over the course of the game, but he yelled along with Victor as the remaining medals were passed out to the team, until the announcement to rise for the Russian national anthem.

When it was over, as they made their way down through the stands to find Yurio, Victor was frowning a little.

“What’s wrong, Vitya?”

“It’s just… he could have won in ice dance,” said Victor wistfully.

“I’m not so sure. Anyway, if he had, it would mean you and Mila would be stuck with silver.” Smiling, Yuuri linked his arm through Victor’s and went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “You know I prefer kissing gold.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tawabids](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tawabids/pseuds/Tawabids), thank you for not just indulging but actively encouraging my ridicuous hockey!Yurio concept :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] New Jersey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11441913) by [Hananobira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hananobira/pseuds/Hananobira)




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